


The One With The Poetry

by bluevalentine69



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Autumn Gift Fic, Bad Poetry, Boys In Love, Coffee Shops, Comedy, Established Relationship, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Funny, Humor, Humour, Literary References & Allusions, Love Poems, M/M, Netflix and Chill, One Shot, Short & Sweet, Students, coffee shop AU, embarrassing boyfriends, poetry porn, references to anal sex, references to blow jobs, references to rimming, supportive boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-11-10 15:28:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20854040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluevalentine69/pseuds/bluevalentine69
Summary: Arthur has to write a poem about 'feelings' for a university spoken word competition. Cue blue comedy and purple prose and a very, very pink Merlin …>>>“It’s mortifying,” Merlin groans at the coffee shop, pulling his scarf over his eyes. “It’s so bad it should be illegal.”“What’s wrong with it this time?” Lance enquires.“He’s lyricising my arsehole. My arsehole Lance! Is nothing sacred between partners?”





	1. Draft One

<strike> _bumping_ </strike> _ thrusting against him  
_ _sinews coiling like _ <strike> _rubber bands_ </strike> _ snakes  
_ _rubbing together in a _ <strike> _sticky_ </strike> _ liquid pool of  
_ _white _ <strike> _semen_ </strike> _ love_

“What are you doing?” Arthur snaps his laptop closed.

“Nothing.” Merlin raises both eyebrows, bed hair crumpled and tufty and face still pillow-creased.

“You were typing something,” he persists stubbornly, pointing at the computer. Arthur shakes his head.

“Nope, just checking the weather. Rainy today, ugh. Hot chocolate?” Merlin likes to start the day with foam and sugar rather than caffeine.

“Please,” he yawns, sliding onto the bar stool and pulling the sleeves of Arthur’s rugby sweater over his cold fingers. “So.” He quirks his head at Arthur assessingly. “How’s your poetry assignment going?”

“Hmm?”

“Your poetry assignment. The one Kilgarrah set you for your arts credit? To be performed at that spoken word competition that we’re definitely not mentioning in this kitchen vicinity?” Arthur glances at him. “Or any vicinity,” Merlin amends.

“Oh.” Arthur’s ears go red. “You know. Okay.”

“Are you still trying to make it rhyme?” Arthur narrows his eyes.

“That was my first draft,” he mutters defensively.

“It was really good,” Merlin smiles encouragingly, kicking his socked feet against the fridge door. “I liked how you paired my ears with your tears.”

“Yes, and your sense of humour with my brain tumour.” Merlin beams widely.

“Exactly. It was very … truthful.” Arthur rolls his eyes and heaps his expensive chocolate sticks into a pan, ready to melt with milk. Merlin fell in love with Arthur the day he realised Arthur had learnt how to make ‘proper’ hot chocolate for him (for the second time, that is. First time was during fresher’s week, when Arthur climbed out of a paddling pool full of beer in a wet shirt. _So_ hot. _So_ Mr Darcy. _So_ first class wank material). After two years of squabbling they’d finally moved their play fighting to the bedroom and their antagonistic, possessive best friendship had quickly blossomed into what Merlin liked to call ‘Soulmate Destiny Uber-Snuggles-Loverdom-Togetherness Forever Till Death Do Us Part’ and Arthur liked to call ‘a relationship’.

“You know, it doesn’t have to be about me,” Merlin points out. “Or -” he waggles a hand between them, “- us. It could be about trees. You like trees. It could be very Wordsworth.”

“Who’s ‘Wordsworth’?” Arthur frowns.

“Romantic poet. Liked nature. You’re missing the point,” Merlin explains patiently. “By constricting yourself to one topic you’re limiting your creativity.”

“Killi said it had to be about _feelings_.”

“So?”

Arthur stares at Merlin pointedly, waving a wooden spoon towards his crotch region.

“So I have them. You know. For you.” He huffs and turns back to the pan. Merlin smiles and reaches for his laptop.

“That’s romantic, thanks babe. Go with that for your opening line.” He flips up the screen and quickly types in Arthur’s password - M3r71n’s5w0Rd. A Word document with a track-changed poem fills the screen.

_rubbing together in a _ <strike> _sticky_ </strike> _ liquid pool of  
_ _white _ <strike> _semen_ </strike> _ love_

“Merlin!” Arthur shouts, slamming the lid closed again. Merlin glances at him.

“Sorry,” he says, looking at his knees. Arthur hands him a mug of steaming chocolatey goodness.

“So?” he says resignedly.

“So what?” Merlin asks, licking the creamy skin off the top of his drink.

“Is it any _good_?” Arthur grits out. Merlin bites his lip.

“Um.” He rests a hand on Arthur’s chest.

“Oh god. It’s really bad, isn’t it?” Merlin shakes his head quickly, slurping as much hot chocolate as he can and burning his tongue in the process.

“No, no … it’s. Well. Graphic.”

“I wanted to capture what sex is like,” Arthur explains cautiously. “You know. How intense it is when we’re together.” He rests his forehead against Merlin’s. “I’m trying to convey what it … I don’t know. _Feels _like, I guess.”

“Fucking me?” Merlin clarifies, cheeks slightly pink.

“_Loving_ you,” Arthur corrects.

“Oh.” Merlin says again quietly, stroking Arthur’s hair. “I’m not sure that feeling is really coming across just yet.” Arthur looks at him quizzically. “It’s more like 'An Ode to Cock',” Merlin explains apologetically. Arthur sighs.

“I need help,” he admits, looking into Merlin’s mug resignedly.

“No! No, you don’t!” Merlin says supportively, wrapping his arms around his lover and sliding his tongue against Arthur’s invitingly. “You just need a little inspiration.”

*

“Arthur needs help,” Merlin says later, at the coffee shop, with Gwen and Morgana and Lance.

“With what?” Gwen asks helpfully, sipping her pumpkin spice chai latte.

“His poetry assignment,” Merlin says, chewing on a flapjack mournfully.

“It can’t be that bad,” Lance soothes him, ever the optimist.

“He’s writing about _thrusting _and _rubber bands_ and _semen_, for god’s sake!” Morgana cackles.

“Oh I cannot _wait_ for spoken word night!” she exclaims gleefully.

“Stop being so awful to your brother and my beloved, precious, secretly-vulnerable boyfriend!” Merlin snaps crossly, brandishing a clump of oats at her. She raises her hands in peace.

“Calm down, future bro-in-law. Just tell him it’s shit and write it for him, you’re a Lit Major.”

“I can’t, Morgana, that would be so patronising!” Merlin whines. “Arthur was so patient with me when he was trying to teach me running.” Morgana glances at Lance, who shakes his head warningly.

“Okay, well, give him some advice.”

“Advice?” Merlin asks dubiously. Lance nods.

“Yeah. Like how he showed you those YouTube videos of people breathing, to demonstrate how to run and breathe at the same time?” Morgana chokes into her napkin and Gwen pats her on the back, chewing back a grin.

“Show him some examples of what ‘good’ looks like, you mean?” Merlin asks, face brightening.

“Exactly. Give him a template to work towards.” Merlin flops back on the couch.

“Of _course_,” he exhales in relief. “That’s perfect. He won’t even know I’m meddling. Thanks guys.” Morgana gives him a thumbs up, eyes watering in repressed mirth.

*

“What are these?” Arthur asks over oven pizza and a stack of A4 paper later.

“Oh, just some casual things I printed off for you.” Merlin shrugs airily. “Poems about love and feelings and the like, you know. Small snippets of potentially helpful inspiration, like we casually discussed this morning over hot chocolate. I’ve put post-it notes on the best ones and highlighted my personal favourite passages. You can ignore my annotations.”

“You said ‘casual’ twice,” Arthur murmurs distractedly, flicking through the pages. “This is very organised inspiration, thanks Merls.”

“Anytime,” Merlin grins a little guiltily, putting his feet in Arthur’s lap and a slice of margherita pizza in his mouth as he flicks through Netflix. Arthur is chewing and reading through his printout pack methodically.

~

_The bed we loved in was a spinning world  
__of forests, castles, torchlight, clifftops, seas  
__where we would dive for pearls. My lover’s words  
__were shooting stars which fell to earth as kisses  
__on these lips; my body now a softer rhyme  
__to his, now echo, now assonance; his touch  
__a verb dancing in the centre of a noun.  
__Some nights, I dreamed he’d written me, the bed  
__a page beneath his writer’s hands. Romance  
__and drama played by touch, by scent, by taste.  
__In the other bed, the best, our guests dozed on,  
__dribbling their prose. My living laughing love -  
__I hold him in the casket of my widow’s head  
__as he held me upon that next best bed_.

**Anne Hathaway, Carol Ann Duffy**

_~ _

_Teach me to sin -  
_ _In love’s forbidden ways,  
_ _For you can make all passion pure;  
_ _The magic lure of your sweet eyes  
_ _Each shape of sin makes virtue praise.  
_ _  
Teach me to sin -  
_ _Enslave me to your wanton charms,  
_ _Crush me in your velvet arms  
_ _And make me, make me love you.  
_ _Make me fire your blood with new desire,  
_ _And make me kiss you - lip and limb,  
_ _Till senses reel and pulses swim.  
_ _Aye! even if you hate me,  
_ _Teach me to sin._

**Enthralled, Alfred Bryan**

~

_He’s like fire and ice and rage.  
_ _He’s like the night, and the  
_ _storm in the heart of the sun.  
_ _He’s ancient and forever.  
_ _He burns at the centre of time  
_ _And he can see the turn of the universe  
_ _And … he’s mine. _

**London Falling, Paul Cornell**

~

_Can we, for tonight,  
__Just be the moon?  
__Curve into me like that  
__cheshire grin in the sky.  
__Press your heart into my back.  
__Let me forget my own_.

**Letters to the Moon, J. R. Rogue**

~

_I bleed myself to be your drink:  
_ _Is not the blood of poets - ink? _

**William Soutar**

~

_so  
_ _I love you  
_ _because the  
_ _entire universe  
_ _conspired  
_ _to help me  
_ _find you_

**The Alchemist, Paulo Coelho**

~

“These are really beautiful,” Arthur says eventually, putting his printouts down.

“They make me think of you,” Merlin admits, licking cheese off his baby finger. Arthur strokes his thumb over Merlin’s bony ankle.

“I love you,” he says quietly, kissing the arch of his foot. Merlin smiles softly, using his toes to nuzzle Arthur’s cheek.

“I know. Me too.”

“Come to our _spinning bed of pearls_,” Arthur quotes huskily, standing up and pulling Merlin to his feet.

“Only if you promise to bump and thrust and rub me,” Merlin smirks, giggling as Arthur chases him over the sofa to get to the safety of their bedroom.


	2. Draft Two

_The rainbow of my love  
  
_ _Pink is sucking his silky cock  
_ _Purple is bruising his milky thighs  
_ _With hot, red kisses  
_ _Pearly white release  
_ _Staining blue sheets  
_ _Like a spangled universe of starry surprise  
  
_ _Green is the newness of the bud  
_ _That blooms from blackened heart  
_ _And his secret nub  
_ _\- the golden ticket -  
_ _To a silvery state  
_ _of orgasmic bliss whole world’s apart  
  
_ _Yellow is the colour of his moans  
_ _Hot sunshine as I fill him  
_ _And musky grey  
_ _The cloudy aura  
_ _Of his mystical chalice as I rim him  
_ _He tastes of indigo, violet sweet, a heady mix of floral and peat_

Merlin snaps the laptop lid closed. Arthur is beaming at him from the other side of the kitchen counter.

“So?” Merlin stares at Arthur’s left ear. “It’s good, right? Kind of vague and descriptive, like all the stuff you showed me?” Arthur opens the lid and points at the title. “And this is kind of a clever pun - the rainbow of my love - because of the rainbow pride flag? Like, I’m telling an LGBT love story?” Merlin nods slowly.

“Yes, that’s a good idea,” he agrees, eyes stuck in the ‘wide’ position. Arthur tilts his head.

“You don’t like it?” Merlin shakes his head in disagreement.

“I ... do. It’s really. Creative.” Arthur beams again, cradling his coffee. “My only concern -” Merlin begins with hesitation, as Arthur’s face snaps up. Merlin bites his lip. “Erm. Mightn’t it be a bit … intimate? You know, for all our friends to hear?” Arthur laughs.

“They walked in on me fucking you against a wall at Gwaine’s twenty-first.” Merlin can’t deny that happened. But in his defence, he’d been _drunk_. And Arthur has written this _sober_.

“Maybe check that Professor Kilgarrah thinks it’s suitable for a family crowd?” Merlin suggests hopefully. Arthur hums in agreement.

“I probably shouldn’t surprise him on the day,” he acknowledges. “He might have some suggestions for perfecting it.” Merlin nods bleakly into his cornflakes.

*

“It’s _mortifying_,” Merlin groans at the coffee shop, pulling his scarf over his eyes. “It’s so bad it should be _illegal_.”

“What’s wrong with it this time?” Lance enquires.

“He’s lyricising my _arsehole_. My _arsehole_ Lance! Is nothing sacred between partners?”

“Ah, but he’s an artist now, Merlin,” Morgana says wisely, dealing playing cards on the table for her and Gwen. “Artists steal from life for their work.” Merlin peels back his scarf.

“It’s Tracey Emin’s _My Bed_ with all the used condoms and tampons and dirty knickers on display. It’s unsanitary!”

“More sanitary than unsafe sex and stranger-semen-stains,” Gwaine chips in, placing a tray of blueberry muffins on the table. Merlin holds out a hand and stuffs most of the muffin in his mouth in one go. Gwen looks alarmed.

“Merlin, you’ll choke yourself!”

“Nah, he does this when he’s stressed,” Gwaine says dismissively, handing him another muffin. “Second year summer exams he looked like a hamster for a full two months.”

“Why’s he stress eating?” a new voice asks, and Merlin’s eyes bulge as Arthur drops his bag and perches on the arm of the sofa, rubbing Merlin’s shoulders soothingly. “It’s okay Mushu, just swallow.”

“It’s still weird you think he’s like the angry midget dragon from Mulan,” Morgana injects. “If anything, _you’re _Mushu, and he’s little Cri-Kee, the harried sidekick.”

“My Merls isn’t a sidekick!” Arthur scoffs, massaging Merlin’s scalp. Merlin nods in agreement and then looks stricken.

“I love you so much, you know that right?” he wails, throwing his arms around Arthur’s middle and burying his head in his stomach.

“Right,” Arthur nods, perplexed.

“He thinks your poem is a festering pile of shite,” Gwaine helpfully translates. Merlin clings to Arthur harder.

“I wouldn’t say ‘festering’,” he mumbles in a panic, blinking up at Arthur sorrowfully.

“Just ‘shite’ then,” Arthur smiles. “Killi had me make some changes,” he admits.

“Are they extensive?” Morgana asks lightly.

“Relatively,” Arthur concedes. “I have to start from scratch.” Merlin squeaks something that sounds like _thank god_ and relaxes into Arthur’s embrace.

“I’m sorry baby,” he says quietly, stroking Arthur’s thigh. “It was a really good idea.”

“Hmm,” Arthur smirks, amused. “He seemed to think I was taking the piss.”

“No!” Merlin says, sitting up, scandalised on Arthur’s behalf. Arthur nods.

“Apparently I have to work on my subtlety. Let the readers infer meaning as they will, some such malarkey.”

“We can totally help with that, can’t we?” Merlin asks the group.

“Yay,” Morgana says drily, as Gwen chirps up “Of course,” and Lance pitches in “Absolutely!”

“Grand. I’ll bring the beers!” Gwaine high-fives Arthur and throws Merlin another muffin. 


	3. Third Time Lucky

~Spoken Word Night~

**Winning Entry: Arthur Pendragon, Finance Major**

_Cartography Lover  
  
_ _Teach me the topography  
_ _Of your skin.  
_ _Its dips and lines and contours,  
_ _Cliffs and peaks and valleys,  
_ _Smooth plains, scars, secret caves;  
_ _Let me map every inch of you.  
_ _I want to learn your landscape,  
_ _Trace journeys across it with my tongue  
_ _And let my fingers roam free,  
_ _Exploring, discovering every inch of you  
_ _With love._

Arthur speaks the words slowly, sensuously, looking only at Merlin. He’d saved his final (Killi-approved) draft as a surprise for the night itself, and Merlin feels shivers tremble down his back, overwhelmed with lust and love and pride, drunk with relief and vodka. When Arthur returns to their table, Merlin clambers into his lap, pressing kisses against his temple, jawline, down his neck.

“You’re like a baby koala,” Arthur complains, attempting to reach his beer.

“You’re an amazing poet,” Merlin sighs tearfully, wrapping his arms around Arthur’s head. “No-one’s ever written me a poem before, thank you.”

“Not true. I wrote you ‘Sex Salsa’ AND ‘The rainbow of my love’ before ‘Cartography Lover’. Let’s not forget the first two.”

“I’ll try really hard not to remember,” Merlin agrees, rubbing his nose against Arthur’s. “Do you want to come home to suck my silky cock and bruise my milky thighs?”

“_Mer_lin,” Arthur chides him. Merlin blinks at him innocently.

“No? Rim my mystical chalice?”

“_Mer_lin!” Arthur says again.

“Shut up?” Merlin asks, smiling widely.

“What a good idea,” Arthur agrees, downing his pint. “Now take me to bed, I’m exhausted.”

*

The End


End file.
